


Our Ghosts

by Angelscythe



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Halloween, Horror, I'm not sure it's Grapgic depictions of Violence at such but pretty horrible stuff, M/M, Zombie like, ghost - Freeform, sylvix - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-15 00:49:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21244781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelscythe/pseuds/Angelscythe
Summary: When War is unleashed, you have to face Victory, Defeat, Corpse... Ghosts. And they are here to haunt you until your last breath...





	Our Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY HALLOWEEN Y'ALL!!!!
> 
> May your day be filled with Glenn's ghost (because Glenn is awesome)
> 
> Have a nice day, go trick or treat or put food on the table for your lost one! Stay safe!!! And may the Sylvix be wiht you!
> 
> (Also sorry for my writing, I'm dislexic and english isn't my first language)

War was roaring.

Metal was hitting against Metal, magicians were singing incantation, arrows hissed in the air, people were screaming their pains or crying their last wishes in the most macabre song ever sung by people.

It was the song playing every day. Every night.

Yes, it wasn’t exactly the same, seeming to come from a mad composer but Sylvain was sick of it.

Sick from the battle fields.

Sick of the smell of blood and death always invading his nostrils. Sick of having this miasma pasting his skin and making him stinky. Sick of being unable to make this or the strains of blood disappear, even when he was taking bathes. It seemed to have to stay there forever.

He was sick of all of this.

Sick of throwing his javelin in people, gathering it and throwing it again. Sick of his spear ripping off the flesh. Sick of changing his horse almost as often as he was changing his weapons, his clothes under his armor…

It was sad that he was keeping his armor longer than anything else…

“Syyyyylvaiiiiin!”

The sound came out from the floor. Someone about to die?

No.

Wait…

It wasn’t that…

He looked down, reins in one hand, spear in the other.

And gasped.

It wasn’t someone dying. It was someone… _already_ dead! Half-rotten, part of flesh missing and the rest between yellow and green. Some parts were swollen and their face… one part of the face was missing, the brain appearing. And the heart of that one… pierced.

“**_Syyylvaiiiiin_**!”

“Wh… Who are you?” Sylvain gasped.

He felt something against his leg and turned the head on the other side. Someone with a big hole in his throat, trying to talk but only for the blood to splatter against the armor. They had some hole here and there and maggots were moving, some climbing their skin. Their hands had no more flesh and their bones were scratching the metal.

More blood came out from the big hole.

His horse arched with a neigh.

Sylvain did his best to cling at the reins. Someone grabbed him by the waist and another throw him an arm at him.

Sylvain’s back hit violently the earth soaked with blood. The darkish liquid splattering in his mouth, making him cough. Corpses were crawling on him. Their hands were moving toward him. One scrapped his cheek.

“**_Sylvain… what did you do_**?”

“**_Sylvaiiiiin…_**”

“**_Syyyylvaiiiin… do you regret_**?”

“**_Syylvaiiiiin… come with uuuuuus_**!”

The corpse kept crawling. The sharp nails of one of them opened his throat. He tried to move away, giving a hit of his elbow in one of them. It didn’t make them move. The smell was horrible and the weight of them was growing every second. He could hear the sound of the nails and bones scratching his armor.

Blood, or others liquids, were dripping on his face, in his throat…

He hiccupped, trying to spit it but it still came. He shook, trying to scream, to beg and the only thing you could hear was a choked sound…

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!”

Sylvain woke up in a jump, struggling to breath.

His tent opened immediately, someone holding a sword in one hand and a lantern in the second.

“Sir?!”

Sylvain slid his face in his hands.

“I’m fine… Sorry for this. Just a bad dream,” he muttered.

He tried to calm himself and swallow the tears rolling along his cheeks. It was always like that… Every night, when he tried to sleep, they went back. They crawled, they called him… Sometimes, he could hear them. Their voices, their faces, their supplications…

“What time is it?” he asked.

“The Sun will rise in one or two hours…”

“I will get up and prepare the plans of today,” Sylvain said.

As he talked, he grabbed his fire striker and light on the candle of his lantern.

“Very well, Sir.”

The Soldier bowed then moved back and closed the tent.

Sylvain sighed and passed his hand in front of his face.

He was all alone. He was all alone and he could hear the sound of those voices, see the face appear. Ghost floating around him.

“Leave me alone…” he muttered. “Leave me alone!”

He heard ruffle and saw the tent opening again. It was the Soldier, once again. Sylvain shook his head. He grabbed his pants and put it on before leaving his hard mattress covered with only one little sheet. He got up, searching for his top.

“I’m fine,” he said.

“You’re sure, Sir?”

“Yes, yes…”

Well, no… He was going very badly.

But what could he do?

The tent closed once again and Sylvain allowed himself a sigh before ruffling his hairs. There were almost no food anymore, the moral of the troopers was very low… his moral itself was actually digging the mud and every day was painful. So painful…

Every time he got an occasion to cheer up the Soldiers, he did it.

If he had to use his money, he would. He bought alcohol sometimes, sweet… delightful presence…

It was so hard to pursue. They waited for news of their families. It was better than any alcohol, sweet or people to help them to stay warm.

Sylvain understood it.

He took the crumpled paper on the floor, next to his flat pillow. He had read it so often, it was now barely readable… But those words, as much as those coming from the seventy-eight others letters, were the only one that kept cheering him up.

Sometimes he had a bit of guilt because he received more letters than those giving their lives for their country. It was only because the personal messages were coming along important martial information…

He should bring as much joy to the Soldiers than the one he could have…

He should do something.

Maybe because he wanted to make disappear those ghosts floating around him? Or he was just someone nice wanting them to find a bit of happiness through the horror of the War…

“Why are you always running away on the battlefield?!”

“Why are you playing with your life?”

Felix sighed.

He had his arms crossed.

“How could I face Lambert in the other side if I let no Fraldarius to take care of Grounds? To be on his son’s side?!”

“And you have so many others things to live, Felix! You want to lose that?!”

“I expect you to be…”

“I know! You expect a lot of me. You expect me to be…” Felix swallowed his saliva. He was twenty-one years old. And yet, he was still having a relation hate-fear with the old man… “I have training and work, father. We will see for the supper. Maybe,” he replied.

Then, he turned and left the room.

“Felix!”

Felix didn’t reply.

He wanted to run away.

His place was on the battlefield. He had to use his sword to protect the people of Faerghus. Of Fódlan?

His techniques and abilities would be more useful against the force of the Empire! But he was there, learning how to be a perfect Duke… He didn’t care to be able to rule over his people if he was letting them die…

They needed to do more!

They needed to find food for them, be sure they have somewhere to stay… If his father couldn’t act as a Duke as he expected, he would do his best.

The cold weather was arriving.

He couldn’t let things happen that way.

“Felix! Don’t act like that!”

Felix clenched his fists. He went to the stairs and climbed them, going to his room. He tried to arrange his messy hairs in a nervous gesture.

The anger was seizing him and if he didn’t start to train immediately, he would be mad in a few moments. He needed to be better, stronger, so he could protect the people, the one he loved especially, but it would also funnel his hate out.

Why was he here?!

He should leave!

He should run away, wave his sword to protect the people of Faerghus!! Where was the Boar to do it? Where were the competent ones?!

“Felix! Please, calm yourself!”

“Why would I?!” Felix replied, turning toward him. “We have to let them die?! He is an idiot and we both know it!”

“It’s false. He is not an idiot. You think that because you’re in disaccord with him.”

“I am.”

“Every minute of every day!”

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I? I disapprove the man. I disapprove everything he thinks and wants! He doesn’t know the slightly thing about real life!”

“You know, you, maybe?”

“It’s more than giving your life for people that would never look at you… Just for the hope of feeling important? Let me laugh. Protecting someone is not a selfish act! And when you protect someone, the most important is to protect yourself first! Because if you die! You…”

A door opened and a servant appeared in confusion.

“Sir Felix?” She stared at him. “Do you feel alright, Sir? Do you need something?”

“No, thank you,” he said.

And without another word, he walked toward his room. In a World where magic was a common thing and you could encounter strange Monsters or beautiful creatures… would it be so surprising that he saw Glenn? Was Glenn really talking with him since so longtime or was he just mad?

Why Glenn wouldn’t be real? Dead but real… He was always leaving when Felix _had_ to be alone. They weren’t always one hundred percent agreeing with each other and he even always talked while their father talked.

It was more a disturbance than a joy. It reminds him, very often, what happened that day and what he have seen. And that Ghost, or the effect of his sick imagination, wasn’t pretty. He was ugly, with a big wound across his face, flesh appearing… And he never aged. If that would have been his imagination… he would have aged him up, isn’t it? Because the day he realized he was sixteen years old, an age his brother would never have…

“Training again, I see?”

Felix turned his head, his sword still in his hand.

“Sylvain?”

“In real life!”

“Why are you here?”

“What an overwhelming welcome! How can handle this! Aah!”

Felix sheathed his sword and walked toward Sylvain, looking him with something in his eyes. Doubts…

“Have you been hurt?”

“No.” He tilted his head. “A bit. Nothing to worry about. It’s War, outside.”

“I know,” Felix said. He sighed. “What are you here, then?”

“It’s War outside, in time like that, I only can wish for a light to warm my heart and…”

“Enough, Sylvain.”

Sylvain let out a little sigh. “I’m not really lying. I needed to change my mind… I wanted to see you.”

“There you’re honest,” Felix said.

He moved his hand and passed it on Sylvain’s cheek. As he looked him, Felix could notice one fresh scar on his throat. He passed his thumb on the wound and moved backward just after.

“I’m going to ask for them to prepare you a bath,” he said, moving away. “Rest yourself or eat something,” Felix offered before leaving the room.

“I can’t believe you’re still friend with Sylvain…”

Felix didn’t reply.

Maybe it was him. He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe he still was able to pass time with him.

Why Sylvain wasn’t bored of being around him. He said to him a way time that he had changed so… what interest to keep him around?

“And Ingrid? Do you have news of Ingrid?”

Maybe it wasn’t him… A real ghost. Because why would he care about what Ingrid had become like that? Especially because she was sending him letters every month anyway… He knew how she was doing… And he wouldn’t be surprised that Glenn wouldn’t allow himself to read his letters…

Madness.

Ghost.

He didn’t know…

The water let a really soft perfume move away, filling the room. It was perfect. The perfect place to rest and forget…

As he thought that, taking off his shirt, he leaned over the big wooden bath, steams coming along his skin. He hadn’t see his face since a moment and he wondered how badly he was looking.

He saw blood.

Blood all over his cheeks, his forehead, even the tip of his nose. He moved his fingers to pass it along his skin, wondering why Felix said nothing. Why no one said anything. There was no wetness… He glanced at his fingers and… nothing.

He looked the water and… a hand came from it. He moved backward violently, hitting the armor. Which fell, creating a hubbub that echoed in the whole room. And probably outside because he heard knock against the door. Sylvain didn’t have the time to retrieve his mind, not even to breath out a ‘yes’ that the door opened.

On the other side, there was Felix.

Or… Inside, since he was walking in.

“So you knock and enter?” Sylvain smiled. “With your sword in hand.”

“Simple politeness so you can cover yourself.”

“Oh come on,” he joked. “Can you be somewhere without your sword?”

“You know the answer: no.”

Felix glanced at the armor. Sylvain tried to gather the parts and place it like before, faking to handle the whole situation.

“What’s happening?” Felix asked.

“Nothing. I just… stumbled.”

“Stumbled?” he repeated, staring him.

“Yeah… Don’t look me like that. I’ve the feeling you’re seeing in my soul!”

“But you don’t have any soul,” Felix replied with a slight teasing tone. “Anyway, I let you stumble alone.”

He turned toward the door and sheathed his sword as he walked.

“The bath is big enough for two. Do you mind to join me?”

Felix looked at him.

“Why?”

“I really missed you, Felix. And I would be happy to have your company. When you are here… everything feel brighter.”

Felix sighed.

“I’m honest. I wouldn’t lie to you. Especially not about that.” Sylvain didn’t know if he could tell him. He wanted, somehow, but he was also afraid to be just a freak… To lose him. “Please? I doubt your father will know anything about… us.”

“I don’t care about his opinion,” Felix replied.

Then he removed his coat and opened the buttons of his shirt.

“So, I really can have anything just by talking about your dad?” Sylvain joked, trying to push away his unease.

“I still can leave, Sylvain,” Felix threatened.

Sylvain came to him and hugged him in silence. Nothing too intrusive. It was extremely easy to move away from him and anyone could have done it. So Felix who had technic and strength… it was easy to move away from him. But he heard the silent ask. He felt the need of Sylvain…

He was strange lately but… War was making you strange.

Duscur’s Tragedy had changed him that way… He started this War being more ready than Sylvain. They had fought, they have seen people falling on the battlefield, they got blood on their hands but it wasn’t the same yet. It wasn’t always, it wasn’t in horrible conditions, and most of the deaths were asked by someone else. Here they have to decide to do it… Decide or not really because, sometimes they tried to save themselves and then… they just had to live with the facts…

It was hard.

Hard to see those you cared dying.

Hard to have to push back some people because if you got attached…

“I’m here, Sylvain,” Felix said, passing his arms around him. He pressed his forehead against his neck. “You can stay here as much as you need to.”

“They are waiting for me,” Sylvain whispered. “I’m their General… And it would be… horrible to stay there, happy in your arms when they are dying. I must be there… I must join them. I just wanted to see you.”

“I’m happy to see you,” Felix whispered.

It was almost inaudible.

Sylvain didn’t mind. He knew it was hard for Felix.

“Thank you to be you,” Sylvain replied.

He kissed his hairs and moved his hand in them, untying the blueish locks.

“You cut your hair…” he noticed.

“Yes. It was easier to fight,” Felix replied. “Why? You are disappointed?”

“No. You’re still lovely. You always are.”

Sylvain caressed his cheek with tenderness and, when Felix moved up his head, he kissed his lips…

“You still use pretty words.”

“But they are always real for you.” Sylvain took his hands to kiss them.

Felix smiled to him, though it looked like a smirk, and moved away, undressing before the bathe become cold. Warm water was a luxury and wasting it a shame…

He went in the bath and felt a feeling of relieve.

Sylvain looked him with a smile.

Especially when he saw him relax a bit. It was so rare…

He finished to undress too and joined him. They didn’t have much place there. But it was okay anyway. Especially when Felix took his hand and asked him, speechlessly, to come in his arms. Sylvain was feeling good in his arms and he kept holding his hand. He watched his own reflect and blood seemed to have disappeared… He was normal…

And with him by his side… Felix didn’t see his brother. Didn’t hear him. Not even from the other side of the door as it happened sometimes…

“Say… Can I sleep with you tonight?” Sylvain asked.

Felix pressed a kiss on his shoulder.

“With pleasure.”

They loved each other. And they needed each other… Together… they could just forget the horror…


End file.
